


Friendly Rivals

by aphbels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Pottertalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphbels/pseuds/aphbels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gryffindor and Slytherin are facing off for the first match of the season, pitting Alfred F. Jones against his best friend and longtime crush, Arthur Kirkland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendly Rivals

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how I managed to complete this by the deadline, but I did it! 
> 
> Written for the APH Fanfic Network Pottertalia prompt on Tumblr. 
> 
> Keeper: Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia)  
> Chasers: Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary), Laura Aarle (Belgium), Francis Bonnefoy (France)  
> Beaters: Mathias Kølher (Denmark), Antonio Carriedo (Spain)  
> Seeker: Alfred Jones (America)
> 
>  
> 
> Slytherin: 
> 
> Keeper: Basch Zwingli (Swizerland)  
> Chasers: Abel Aarle (Netheralnds), Natalya Braginsky (Belarus), Aneta (Czech Republic)  
> Beaters: Ivan Braginsky (Russia), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany)  
> Seeker: Arthur Kirkland (England)

The moment Alfred stepped into the Great Hall, he knew it was going to be a good day. 

 

The Gryffindor table, which had been adorned with various red and gold items, the more interesting of them appearing to be someone’s underwear, instantly burst into cheers when they saw their Seeker. Grinning from ear to ear, Alfred made his way to the table, nearly getting knocked over by an over enthusiastic hug from Gilbert, who threw his arm around Alfred’s shoulders the moment he saw him. 

 

“First game of the year!” Gilbert cheered, matching Alfred’s grin with his own wide smile. “You excited, Alfred?” 

 

“You bet!” Alfred replied cheerfully. “We’re gonna crush Slytherin to the ground!”

 

“Hey, hey, watch it, big guy.” Gilbert laughed. “My little brother’s on the team. I’m not overly fond of crushing my brother to a pulp.” 

 

“Okay, let  _ me  _ crush them to a pulp.” 

 

“Even Arthur?” Gilbert asked, a knowing smirk on his face. 

 

Alfred shoved him away, trying to feign irritation, but Gilbert’s smile was infectious. “Shut it.” 

 

“Alfred, you’re as red as Francis’ stupid hat.” Gilbert said. “Or my eyes.” 

 

“My hat is fine.” Francis protested, yanking Gilbert’s arm. “And you’re blocking traffic. Stop teasing Alfred and sit down.” 

 

Grateful for the intervention, Alfred quietly mouthed a “thank you” to Francis, who just smiled in reply.

 

“Your hat looks like a sad penis.” Gilbert replied, taking the open spot next to the aforementioned blond.

 

“That’s vulgar.” Francis replied, ignoring Alfred's loud snort. “And how can a penis have feelings?”

 

“I dunno.” Gilbert shrugged. “I’m not a penis.”

 

“You certainly act like a dick at times.” Francis replied, a hint of a smirk on his face as he raised his teacup to his lips. 

 

“Thanks, Francis. You’re the best friend this dick could ask for.” 

 

“Please don’t say that. Ever again. Alfred, please don’t die.” 

 

“I think it’s too late.” Gilbert said, watching in amusement as Alfred gasped for breath between his shouts of laughter. “Alfred, if you genuinely find this amusing, you’re going to have a rough time outside of Hogwarts.” 

 

“Fuck off.” Alfred wheezed. 

 

“Well, if you insist-” 

 

“I hate to interrupt this  _ enthralling _ conversation, but you’re in the way.”  

 

Alfred spun around so fast, he nearly fell over. The movement resulted in Alfred’s red and teary-eyed face to be within centimeters of the newcomer’s, prompting him to yelp and jump backwards as Francis and Gilbert laughed. “Oh! Artie!” 

 

Arthur Kirkland, Alfred’s best friend and longtime crush, instantly flushed at the mention of Alfred’s nickname for him, but said nothing.

 

“Morning, Arthur.” Francis greeted him, his voice unsteady from laughter. “Ready to get crushed in today’s match?”

 

Arthur eyed him coolly, or as well as he could with a pink face. “I could ask the same of you.” 

 

“We’ve got dick jokes. There’s no way we can lose.” Gilbert said proudly.

 

Arthur wrinkled his nose at Gilbert’s comment. “If you say so. Good morning, Alfred.”

 

Thankfully, Alfred had recovered enough to manage a greeting of his own, throwing his arm around the Slytherin as he did so. As usual, Arthur did nothing more than sigh; he had stopped trying to get Alfred from hanging on him during their first year. 

 

“I see you’re excited. And the taste in decor you all have is remarkable.” 

 

“The underwear was not my idea.” Alfred said immediately.

 

“Of course it wasn't.” 

 

“Come on, I have a little more class than  _ that.”  _

 

“Do you now?” Arthur looked highly amused. 

  
“Artie!”

 

Alfred huffed as Arthur laughed, but it was impossible to try and feign any amount of anger at Arthur. He broke out into a smile again as he ruffled Arthur’s hair, despite the Slytherin’s immediate protests. 

 

Arthur tried to bat his hand away, but Alfred's slight advantage over him was enough to make the process much more difficult than it should have been.

 

“Stop that!” 

 

“Nope!”

 

“You're insufferable.”

 

“That's why you love me, right?” 

 

Arthur groaned. “I suppose.” 

 

Love. A word that he and Arthur has been throwing around since their first years. Alfred wasn't sure how it began, but the word “love” was sent Arthur’s way an awful lot, usually brushed aside or ignored completely. It had hurt at first, but it was just how they operated. Arthur was quick to point out that Alfred was much better at expressing his feelings than he was; throwing the word around so casually just wasn't in his nature.

 

Unfortunately, that also seemed to prove that Arthur had no idea about the sincerity behind his words. 

 

“There's my cue.” Arthur sighed, moving Alfred’s arm off of him in response to one of his team members calling him to the Slytherin table. “I'll see you on the field.” 

 

“Would it be a bad thing if I wished you good luck?” Alfred asked with a grin.

 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Good luck, Alfred.”

  
“You too, Artie.”

 

\-----

Breakfast was a blur after that. The moment the team finished eating, Gilbert directed them towards their locker room to prepare for the match, completely ignoring Laura's protests that she wanted more waffles. She settled for cramming a few in her mouth as they left, earning a rather disgusted look from her brother, Abel, who was seated alongside his fellow Slytherin Quidditch players. 

The preparation for the game was a loud and noisy affair; the team of seven was practically buzzing with excitement. Unfortunately, it came with the unintended consequence of tensions running rather high, which Gilbert found out the hard way after Elizabeta tried to deck him across the face during a last minute argument.

Sometimes, it was a miracle that they were able to get anything done. 

Luckily, a hasty attempt at a pep talk from Mathias seemed to pull the two away from their squabble, although Elizabeta was still clearly irritated. With a few more words of encouragement and a few more bad jokes, courtesy of Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert, the team made their way outside into the autumn sunshine.

The moment the team stepped onto the field, a roar of cheering rose up from the Gryffindor student section, bringing a grin to Alfred’s face. Behind him, Gilbert and Francis took it in stride; the two of them were waving and making ridiculous poses as the team made their way out, the former encouraging Mathias and Alfred to join in. Alfred just smiled and shook his head, but Mathias wasn't paying attention at all. 

Alfred followed his gaze to the press box. Seated inside was the usual commentator, a cheerful Hufflepuff named Tino, and for some inexplicable reason, a Ravenclaw named Lukas. The two of them were Mathias’ longtime friends, and the latter just happened to be Mathias’ not-so-subtle crush. However, that didn't explain Lukas’ presence; the Ravenclaw was hardly one for sports commentary, or talking at all, for that matter. 

The call for the respective teams to mount their brooms drew Alfred’s attention back towards the field, where the Slytherins had begun to gather. Gilbert’s brother, Ludwig, was swinging a bat around, his expression unreadable.

Alfred shivered. He liked Ludwig well enough, just not while he was holding a Beater’s bat. Alfred had been on the receiving end of Ludwig’s Bludger attacks more than once. He was  _ not  _ looking forward to being clobbered by Ludwig.

Of course, Ludwig’s apparent lack of emotion didn't stop Gilbert from practically tackling the younger Beilschmidt to the ground, nearly knocking over Ivan and Natalya, the Braginsky siblings who played beater and chaser respectively. Ivan looked amused with the scene, but Natalya was visibly annoyed. Neither of them said a word.

After a rather loud scolding issued by Madame Hooch, the Gryffindor captain detached himself from his brother and made his way back to his team, grinning as Elizabeta shot him an exasperated look as he mounted his broomstick.

“Good luck, Alfred.” 

Alfred looked up. Arthur was speaking to him.

“Thanks, Artie.” Alfred replied, his grin turning into a bashful smile as Arthur’s face turned slightly pink. “Race you for the snitch.”

Arthur’s reply was drowned out by the sound of a whistle, then the sound of fourteen Quidditch players taking to the sky. The press box crackled to life and Tino’s voice echoed around the stadium, amid the whooping and hollering of Gilbert and Francis. 

“And the first match of the season has begun!” Tino said, prompting cheers from the crowd of students that had gathered to watch the match. “This year, the teams are headed by Gilbert Beilschmidt of Gryffindor-”

Gilbert yelled something that sounded rather obscene. 

“- and Basch  Zwingli of Slytherin! Both captains are playing Keeper for their respective teams.”

The Slytherin keeper didn’t seem to respond, but Alfred was too far way to tell. 

Tino hastily rattled off more information about the teams as the Quaffle was brought out, not pausing for breath. 

“-this year’s Slytherin Chasers are Natalya Braginsky, Abel Aarle, and Aneta- and the game is on!” 

Alfred grinned as he looked down from his spot above the others, watching the Slytherin beaters scramble for position as Elizabeta charged through the green-clad team, the Quaffle securely tucked under her arm. Within a few moments, she had narrowly gotten the Quaffle past Basch, scoring the first goal of the game. 

The Gryffindor student section burst into cheers, assisted by a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who had sided with the red and gold house for the match. Alfred watched Mathias burst into a grin as Lukas and two other Ravenclaws unrolled an enormous banner, which proudly displayed the house colors of Gryffindor, along with Mathias’ face. A few seats away, Alfred spotted his twin, a Hufflepuff named Matthew, for the first time that morning, waving a Gryffindor flag. 

Gilbert yelled something to Elizabeta with a grin as the Quaffle was tossed up again. However, Natalya was quicker; grabbing the quaffle and charging towards Gilbert, nearly knocking Francis off his broom in the process. 

Antonio shot a Bludger at her, but it did little to slow Natalya. Laura was yelling something, but her words were drowned out by the wind as Natalya shot the Quaffle towards the leftmost goal hoop. Gilbert was only barely able to catch it; he had leaned so far forward that he nearly toppled from his broomstick. 

_ Well, that answers one question.  _ Natalya was a new addition to the Slytherin Quidditch team, and apparently a good one. They’d have to be careful, they hadn’t thought much of the playing ability of Ivan’s younger sister. 

Still, she wasn’t any match for the Gryffindor chasers, that was for sure. Laura already had the Quaffle in her possession and was making her way towards the goal hoops. 

“Oi, Alfred. You just gonna sit and hover there all day?” 

Arthur was hovering next to him, his face pink and his hair tousled from the wind. 

“I’m watching, don’t worry.” Alfred said. “I’m not going to let you have it that easily.” He paused, glancing downward. “Oh, look. There it is.”

Arthur cursed, glanced downward, then back at Alfred. “You _ ass _ .”

Alfred grinned. “Just keeping you on your toes.” 

Their conversation was cut short by Antonio, who cheerfully asked them if they were having a nice conversation. Arthur’s face turned a deeper shade of pink, Alfred just sheepishly grinned at the Gryffindor Beater.

“See you.” Arthur mumbled, speeding off before Alfred could reply. 

Antonio shook his head, looking amused as he made his way closer to Alfred. “You should be paying attention. Have you seen the Snitch yet?”

“Nope. Why?”

“We’ve got to end this match soon. Natalya scored while you and Arthur were talking.”

“So? Laura did too. We have a ten point lead. Besides, the game just started.” 

Below him, the green and silver portion of the stands erupted in cheers again.

“Had.” Antonio said. “It doesn’t help that she’s playing for Slytherin; Gilbert’s goalkeeping always suffers when he’s playing against his brother.” 

“I’ve got this, stop worrying. We’re not losing to Slytherin.” Alfred said. “Bludger incoming!”

Antonio cursed, whirling around to smack the Bludger away with his bat, nearly hitting Alfred in the face in the process. The metal ball shot off, then streaked towards Aneta, who immediately charged off in the opposite direction. 

Antonio sighed. “Thanks. Now, go get the Snitch.”

“Working on it.” Alfred said as Antonio took off, leaving him to scan for the slightest flash of gold. He wasn’t overly worried about losing to Slytherin, no matter how much Antonio worried, but he couldn’t risk Arthur catching the Snitch. As much as he liked his Seeker counterpart, the two of them had been rivals since the start of their Quidditch careers. This year would be no exception; he had no intention of letting Arthur catching the Snitch during the first match of the season.

Below him, the Quidditch match was quickly turning from light hearted fun to a rather heated competition. Francis’ possession of the Quaffle was quickly compromised by a well-placed bludger from Ludwig, allowing Abel to scoop up the dropped Quaffle and score another ten points for Slytherin. 

“And Slytherin takes the lead!” Tino called, muffled by the cheering from the stands.

“Looking good, Ludwig!” Gilbert called, still smiling, despite the fact that his team was now  loosing.

“Don't encourage the other team!” Elizabeta yelled. Gilbert just shrugged in response, flashing a thumbs up to Ludwig. 

“Might wanna find the Snitch soon, Al!” Laura yelled as she zipped by, visibly frustrated.

“Trying!” Alfred replied, gritting his teeth. The only gold he saw was coming from the robes of his fellow teammates and from the student section below him. It wasn't like the Snitch was going to appear if they kept telling him to catch it-

Well, he could pretend, at least. 

Alfred zipped downward, the wind roaring in his ears as his altitude rapidly decreased. The crowd, which had been preoccupied with Aneta’s possession of the Quaffle, began to roar, thinking he had spotted the Snitch.

_ No sign of Arthur.  _ If only he had actually spotted it… 

Unfortunately, the opposing team had noticed as well. Ivan sent a Bludger towards him, forcing him to slow his descent and change his direction to avoid being hit.

That resulted in him crashing right into Arthur. 

Luckily, he had luckily rammed into Arthur’s side; slamming the tip of his broomstick into the Slytherin’s chest would have been unfortunate indeed. 

 

“Christ, Alfred!” Arthur yelled, more out of shock than anger. 

“Sorry!” 

  
He offered Arthur a sheepish grin, but at that moment, something hit the back of his head and everything went black.

 

\-----

“My head hurts.” 

That was Alfred’s first thought when he awoke to a dull throb in his skull, staring at a rather familiar ceiling. 

_ Hospital Wing.  _

“I'd imagine.” The unexpected response made Alfred aware that he had accidentally spoken aloud.

Turning to face the speaker, Alfred shifted with a groan, squinting as the late afternoon sun shone behind his newfound companion, making him a dark silhouette to Alfred’s eyes. 

“You got hit pretty badly by that Bludger.” Arthur said, speaking softly. “You got knocked right off your broom.”

It took a moment for Alfred to process what Arthur had said, but when he did, a sinking feeling developed in his stomach. “We lost, didn't we?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Arthur blinked, then looked annoyed. “Is Quidditch all you can think about?” he asked with a huff. “If you  _ must  _ know, the match’s been postponed. Basch insisted on a rematch. It's not like the game could go anywhere without any Seekers.”

“Good man, Basch.” Alfred murmured, relieved that his carelessness hadn’t ruined Gryffindor’s chances for the Cup. “So, what happened to you?”

“What?” 

“Seekers. As in plural. Did the Bludger whack you too?”

“Oh.” Arthur shifted, apparently uncomfortable with his question. “I did something to my arm when you fell. I tried to catch you and it didn't exactly go to plan.” 

Alfred felt his gut twist with guilt again. “Oh god, Artie-”

“It's fine, don't worry about it.” Arthur said, dismissing his concern. “It's on the mend; I'll be fine in an hour or so.” 

“I hurt you.” Alfred said, his voice unnaturally tight. 

“Technically, I did this to myself.” Arthur replied, gently. “Alfred, stop worrying about it.” 

“But-”

“ _ Alfred. _ ”

Still unconvinced, Alfred rolled onto his back, unable to focus on anything but the twisting, writhing guilt in his stomach. He had hurt Arthur. Unintentionally, of course, but that didn’t make Arthur’s pain any less.  _ And _ he had ruined the first game of the season.

Breakfast seemed like a lifetime away. 

“You're an amazing Seeker, you know.” Arthur said, softly, almost as if Arthur could read his mind. It wouldn’t surprise him if he could; they had known each other for years and Arthur was capable enough of Legilimency.

“Sure.” Alfred mumbled.

“Stop that.” Arthur sounded irritated. “You're truly talented.”

“So are you.”

“You've always far surpassed me in skill, you know that. It doesn't matter how many goals Natalya and the others score when you're around.”

“Don't say things like that, Artie, you're awesome.” Alfred sighed, turning his head towards Arthur again. “What kind of rivals are we supposed to be if we're not on equal terms?” 

Arthur chuckled. “Rivals? I thought we left that behind in our third year.”

“Yeah. Friendly rivals.” Alfred said. “That's good, right?” 

“I suppose.” Arthur said, suddenly sounding rather resigned, much to Alfred’s confusion.

“You don't sound convinced.” Alfred said, frowning.

“I assure you, you’ve done a marvelous job of convincing me.”

His tone was biting, unnaturally so. Arthur hadn’t spoken to him so harshly in years. Was his arm aggravating him? He couldn’t think of anything that he had done wrong. 

Alfred didn’t realize he had been reaching out to Arthur until Arthur jerked away the moment his hand grazed his arm. 

“Stop.”

Alfred pulled his hand away. “Does it still hurt?”

Arthur was staring, as if Alfred had suddenly grown an extra pair of eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Your arm.”

“Oh.” Arthur said. “It's fine.”

“Artie-”

“ _ Stop _ .”

Alfred fell silent. A heavy silence fell across the room, the only sound being the two of them breathing. Arthur’s expression was unreadable, which only served to encourage the twisting, swirling guilt that was swirling inside of Alfred. 

_ I really messed up this time…  _ Alfred thought. Arthur was undeniably angry with him. 

“...Did I do something?” Alfred asked, his voice nearly a whisper. Of course, he realized how idiotic the question was once it had left his mouth- of course Arthur was mad, why else would he be acting so strangely? 

_ I guess I did slam into him pretty hard. And he messed up his arm because of me…  _

“No, no! It’s nothing, I swear!” Arthur said, the dark expression on his face quickly transforming to one of worry. “I’m sorry Alfred, I’m being ridiculous-” 

“Artie-”

Arthur was talking as if his life depended on it. “-my arm’s just bothering me, that’s all-”

“ _ Artie _ -”

“-and I’ve got a bit of a headache as well-”

“ _ Arthur! _ ”

“ _ What? _ ”

Arthur’s harsh response stunned Alfred into silence for a moment, but he revived quickly, pressing on with sudden vigor. “Are you mad at me?”

“Don’t be daft, of course not.” Arthur replied, his tone completely contrary. 

“Then why are you acting so…weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” Alfred said, talking over Arthur as he began to protest again. “C’mon, we’re friends, right? Why-”

Arthur had flinched again. 

A crushing, overwhelming sensation filled Alfred’s chest, suddenly rendering him breathless. 

“...Do you not want to be friends anymore?” He asked, his voice barely audible. 

The awful, terrible, feeling only grew with each passing second that there was no response from Arthur.

“I-”

Arthur took a deep breath, clutching the armrests of the chair. “I don’t know how to phrase it.”

“Just say it, then.” Alfred replied, his voice tight. 

“No.” Arthur said, suddenly sounding as scared as Alfred felt. “That would suggest that I never want to see you again.”

“Then what  _ do _ you want?” 

Arthur closed his eyes, murmuring something that Alfred couldn’t hear before speaking audibly again. “Don’t get mad at me, okay?” 

“Wh-”  

Arthur leaned forward, pressed his lips to his, and pulled away before Alfred could think a single thing.

Dead silence. 

_ Did that just happen?  _

Judging by Arthur's pink face, it had.

Alfred opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was like his brain had been dipped in molasses.

There was a lengthy pause before Alfred finally found his voice. “D-did you just kiss me?”

Somehow, Arthur managed to turn even pinker. “I should go.”

“No, wait-” 

Arthur paused, halfway out of his seat.

“Why?” There was no possible way-

“Isn't it obvious?” Arthur replied, his voice tight. 

“I'm asking, aren't I?” 

“I suppose you are.” Arthur said, the faintest trace of humor in his voice.

“Ar-”

“I like you. A lot.”

Silence. Again.

“Like…  _ like? _ ” Alfred asked, feeling a sudden, wild sense of hope rising in him. 

Arthur made a face. “If we have to be juvenile about it, yes.”

If the circumstances were different, Alfred would have punched the air in celebration, but he didn't dare let himself hope. “How long?” he asked. “And why now?” 

“I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re confined to a bed.” 

“You shouldn't have kissed me then.”

“Are you mad?” Arthur asked, timid. 

“Oh, I'm livid.” Alfred said lightly. “C’mon, there's no way I can be mad at you, Artie. I love you.”

Arthur’s face went dark. “Don't patronize me, Alfred.”

“I'm not! Do you really think I was joking the whole time? I've been honest since the beginning.” 

“What are you on about?” 

“I've been telling you that I love you for  _ years.  _ You just kinda shrugged it off, so I thought-”

Arthur’s eyes grew wide. “Oh God, you actually  _ meant  _ it.”

Alfred’s lips curved upwards into a grin. “Of course I did. Why would I say that if I didn't?”

Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I am an  _ idiot. _ ” 

“No, you're not.” Alfred replied with a smile. “So, what prompted this whole thing? I didn't exactly imagine that this was how we’d be confessing to each other.”

“You thought about this?” Arthur asked, looking skeptical.

“Hey, a guy can dream.” 

“He can.” Arthur agreed. “I wasn't planning on doing this today-”

“That was obvious.”

Arthur ignored him. “-but then you got hit by that Bludger... That scared the hell out of me, Alfred.” 

“I've been hit by one before.”

Arthur shook his head. “Not like that. The life just sort of…drained out of you. Your face just froze and your eyes rolled back…then you fell off your broom…I thought you died for a moment. It was terrifying, Alfred.” 

“I guess I just realized that I can't keep ignoring the issue forever. And it just burst out after that. This wasn't how I wanted- why are you smiling?” 

Alfred shrugged. “Dunno. Do you want me to make stupid faces at you? I can do that.”

“Oh, put a sock in it.” Arthur said, looking amused, despite his best efforts to remain serious. 

Alfred didn't try and kiss him, Arthur seemed flustered enough as it was. He settled for taking Arthur’s hand instead, watching in delight as the Slytherin’s bashful smile grew wider. 

“You know, I think today was the best day ever.” Alfred said.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You got hit by a Bludger. And you're in the Hospital Wing.”

“ _ And  _ you kissed me.”

“That I did.”

Alfred grinned. “Love you, Artie.”

  
As always, Arthur turned slightly pink. “I love you too, Alfred.”

 


End file.
